


Watson's duty

by Tiofrean



Series: Watson's everything [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: (though not described you can guess why Sherlock was acting the way he was), Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, John follows instructions to make him feel better, M/M, Nightmares, Slow Sex, a very tiny bit of angst so, sherlock has his own idea of remedy, somehow awkward sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-09
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-08 04:27:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1926603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiofrean/pseuds/Tiofrean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taking care of Sherlock is John's duty. When nightmares strike he is the first to help the detective. Somehow it is awkward. Somehow it is fluffy. But always it's them, together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watson's duty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MinMu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinMu/gifts).



> Gifted to MinMu, as a thank you for prompts and generally being a wonderful person.
> 
> Also as a reward for Kat - you know what for, sweetheart <3
> 
> Beta reader - BooksOverPeople

John made himself a fresh cup of tea and sat comfortably on their dark green sofa. Sherlock was in their bedroom, sleeping off the case, so the doctor thought a little bit of winding down in front of the telly would be good. It wasn't that late, it just passed 10 pm, so John made himself a hot cuppa and tried to relax.  
  
The case they just finished was horrible. A triple homicide, a young kid's dad had gone postal and murdered his mother and grandmother. He then proceeded to kill his brother and was on the bring of killing the child, when the Yard stepped in, Sherlock and John leading the way. When everything seemed to be under their control and accident happened. The man used the Yarders' distraction to run away from them. When he took off, the kid's dog, his savior actually, for he effectively defended him against his father's blows, ran after him, trying to catch him. The man jumped on the street straight in front of a speeding car. He jumped up, saving himself a broken spine by breaking both his legs and a hip. The dog though... John didn't know what tugged at his heart more, the face of the crying kid, or Sherlock carefully petting the dying animal's head and ears.  
  
They came back home then, the detective frighteningly silent, and John thinking it was just the beginning. But Sherlock just stood in their hallway for five minutes before silently turning in the direction of the bathroom. The doctor could hear him taking a shower and then, with one quiet “goodnight, John” the door to their bedroom closed behind him.  
  
And now the doctor sat on the couch, his tea steaming on the coffee table. The somehow hollow peace didn't last long though. He suddenly heard a shout from the other room and abandoned the cup to rush to Sherlock.  
  
When he opened the door, the detective was already awake, sitting up in the bed, eyes wide and scared. John took a tentative step inside, uttering his name softly. The dark-haired head snapped in his direction and two oceanic eyes focused on him.  
“John?” His voice was raspy, and from where he was standing, the doctor could see how sweat beaded on the detective's forehead. He closed the space between them in slow, measured steps, and was soon placing himself next to Sherlock, sitting on top of the covers.  
  
Sherlock watched him for a long moment, before he averted his gaze and lowered himself back on the pillows, turning to his side and facing the doctor.  
“You okay?” John asked in a carefully leveled tone. Sherlock nodded, his hair creating a soft rustling in the silence of the night. He closed his eyes when he felt John's hand running up his arm, higher to his head, the doctor's careful fingers threading through his hair tenderly.  
  
He frowned when the hand disappeared and opened his eyes, looking somehow scared that John disappeared. The doctor was there, standing up and unbuttoning his cardigan.  
“I should go to sleep anyway” he explained, eyes soft, while he shrugged out of his clothes. He climbed naked next to Sherlock and lowered himself on the pillows, facing the other man.  
  
They stared at each other for a long moment, before the detective shyly crawled to him, tucking his head under John's chin and pressing a sweet kiss to his neck. John wrapped one arm around his back and let his other hand run up and down Sherlock's shoulder, keeping the caress light and soothing.  
He was almost dozing off when he felt Sherlock shift and small kitten-like kisses being placed down his neck. His eyes opened and he looked down. The detective was now licking over his collarbones and down his chest, eyes closed, pink tongue darting out almost shyly. He squeezed Sherlock's arm gently, making the dark-haired head pop up, gaze focused on his own eyes.  
  
John's heart clenched at the multitude of emotions that crossed the other man's features. Pain, so deep and overwhelming, sadness, hope, need... but above all fear. The doctor's eyes widened with the realization. Sherlock must have been afraid of falling asleep again. With a quick decision and a memory of all the times his lover soothed him into a peaceful slumber after his own night terrors, he tugged Sherlock up.  
  
“Come 'ere” he whispered and kissed him tenderly. The detective kissed him like a man drowning, all soft lips and quiet desperation.  
“John” he mumbled into the kiss, barely breaking it before he resumed the slow and pliant slide of their tongues. The doctor moved his hands up his back, somehow managing to push them even closer. Sherlock moved his legs so that he could straddle John, his ass completely naked and the smaller man moaned low at the delicious skin-to-skin contact.  
  
“John...” he repeated in a whisper, the air puffing over John's face.  
“I'm here, love” he whispered back, embracing Sherlock's tightly, one hand holding him in the middle, the other going to his ass, tugging it down a little. He could feel himself harden when Sherlock thrust a little with his hips, the rhythm mindless and natural. The detective was only half hard, but it didn't prevent him from moaning into John's ear as he suckled and nibbled at his earlobe.  
  
They fumbled a little in the dark, movements slow and sleepy but gaining in intensity. Sherlock started to shiver and tremble under the covers, and John knew it has nothing to do with cold. It seemed it has little to do with arousal, either, for he was still only half hard, even if John's cock was standing completely at attention.  
“Hey” the smaller man prompted gently, grabbing Sherlock's chin and lifting his head up to make him look at him. It took a moment but finally the two verdigris eyes focused on him.  
  
“What do you need?” John asked softly, gaze never leaving his lover's face. He swallowed and looked down licking his lips. After a moment of silence he moved his hips downward in a very suggestive way, rubbing John's cock between his ass cheeks in progress. John frowned. He never liked doing any form of penetrative sex when his lover was not fully aroused... It wasn't some sort of man's pride or anything. It was just that John always wanted Sherlock to enjoy it, on different levels of consciousness. He opened his mouth to say as much, but the dark haired man shook his head, stopping John's words.  
  
“Please... I need you like this...” he whispered, barely audible.  
“You sure?” The doctor swallowed, hands going to the other man's face, bracketing it gently, thumbs sweeping over pale cheekbones. He expected an exasperated eye-roll or a scowl, but all he got in return were eyes fluttering closed and a barely-there nod.  
  
“Yes. Please...” Sherlock confirmed and John tugged him gently down for a kiss.  
“Alright” he murmured when they broke apart. He blindly searched for a tube of lube they kept on the bedside table and grabbed it. Sherlock lowered his head to John's shoulder and started to lick at his scar, sucking gently where he knew John liked it best. The doctor moaned, coating his fingers with a generous amount of lube, before he brought them down to Sherlock's entrance. The detective stilled the tentative thrusting of his hips when he felt one finger breach him.  
  
John craned his neck to kiss the detective's temple as he started to move the digit in and out, provoking a slight wriggle from the man on top of him. He moved his finger in small circles, stretching him even more. He could feel Sherlock's breathing picking up, he could feel how his shivering got more intense. When he introduced a second finger, pushing it in carefully, Sherlock stilled. He breathed in through his nose and exhaled through his mouth a few times and the doctor almost withdrew right then.  
  
“Sherlock...”  
“Don't stop” came a ragged reply. John didn't. He carefully stretched him, listening for any indication that Sherlock was after all enjoying it, but the man was silent. He moved his hips a few times, but otherwise he just sat on top of John, still and breathing heavily. The doctor ducked his head down, nuzzling at him until Sherlock turned his face and allowed himself to be kissed.  
  
John poured all his love and reassurance in that kiss. He licked the plump lips lovingly, barely scratching them with his teeth, before he pushed his tongue inside, inviting Sherlock's to join in. It did, after a bit of coaxing, and then the kiss turned more passionate. Sherlock used his own tongue to pry his lips even more open and dived inside, licking and sucking whenever he could.  
  
The doctor moaned at this, his hand never leaving Sherlock's entrance. He pushed in his third finger as well, scissoring them as much as he could without it being painful. The detective went stock still again, but his kisses remained hot and urgent. John could sense him coming somehow back to here and now. He gave one last push with his fingers, breaking the kiss and panting into Sherlock's hot mouth. The detective nodded at him, shifting a little bit lower.  
  
John grabbed his cock and lined it up, pushing slowly inside the heat of his lover's body.  
“John...” he heard a soft whisper and looked up. Sherlock had his eyes wide open, gaze focused only on him. His lips parted on a strangled moan when John pushed all the way in. He paused his movement for a moment, giving Sherlock time to adjust. He was so tight it drove John nuts. How could he be so tight still, after their regular love-making, John didn't have a clue. But it was absolutely perfect.  
  
Soon, the detective started to move in little thrusts. He gingerly rose up a few inches and sat back down, impaling himself on John's more-than-average cock. It was glorious, but for the doctor it was way too shallow. He grabbed Sherlock's hips and helped him to move, thrusting up into his ass. His movements were still slow and luxurious, but long, his length going almost all the way out and plunging deep inside the detective.  
  
It seemed to be exactly what Sherlock needed, for he started to gasp and moan, tiny little sounds escaping him one after another. It fueled John further.  
“Sherlock” he moaned, “love... come here” he wrapped his arm around Sherlock's neck bringing him down for another kiss, this time open mouthed as both of them had troubles focusing. John's free hand traveled to the other man's cock and he hummed pleasantly when he found it hot and hard. He closed his hand around it's length and felt Sherlock shudder above him.  
  
“Oh god...” he panted into John's collarbone and the doctor smiled. Sherlock started to come back to himself finally. With a little bit of shifting the doctor found a perfect angle to graze his prostate with every thrust which provoked a series of moans and whimpers from his dark-haired love. John started to move the hand on Sherlock's cock and soon a feverish chant could be heard.  
  
“John! John... _John_.... Oh god, John.... John, Johnjohnjohnjohnjohn....” Sherlock moaned and whimpered. He fell forward, arms encircling his doctor in whatever way he could, holding on tight.  
“I'm here, love... Sherlock, god... I love you so much” John chocked out, feeling himself overflown with emotions. His mad detective was back with him again and watching it happen was a true miracle.  
  
With Sherlock positioned above him as he was, holding them as close together as possible, he didn't have much space to work the detective's cock. He moved as much as he could, making Sherlock's hips jerk at every swipe of his thumb over the sensitive slit at the top of his prick. He could feel himself nearing to the edge and gritted his teeth to stave it off. He needed Sherlock to come first, it was a must today.  
  
“Come on, love” he choked out, voice strangled. He felt Sherlock shift above him, and then a pair of soft, hot lips were glued to his, tongue insistent and demanding. He growled into the kiss, hips stuttering and came, his vision whitening at the edges. Sherlock tensed, feeling John come, still riding him. When John calmed down a little, breathing still heavy but his eyes open and full of wonder, Sherlock tried to move himself off him and to the bed, but the doctor shook his head.  
  
“Wait” he said, tugging the detective down again, offering his neck for Sherlock to tuck himself against it. The detective obliged, lips closing around John's pulse point. The doctor was still holding his cock in hand and resumed the strokes as soon as he lied down on top of him again. Sherlock shuddered, mouth going slack. He started to thrust up into the tight fist John made and was on the brink of coming, when he felt two of John's fingers pushing again into his loosened hole.  
  
He bucked wildly, whimpering when the doctor managed to nudge his prostate. It was suddenly too much for him and with one long mewl he came, back arching even as his hands still almost panickly grasped his shoulders.  
  
“John!” He cried, and the doctor was suddenly all over him. Before the first ribbons of his come could hit the other man's stomach, John sat up, quickly but gently tugging his fingers out of Sherlock's hole and wrapping his arm around his middle, bringing them as close as possible. His other hand never ceased its movements and continued to stroke Sherlock through the blissful release.  
  
“I'm here, I'm here, shhhh...” He whispered gently into his ear, feeling him calm down and slowing his hand to a halt.  
“John.”  
“I love you” he said, and felt Sherlock tremble.  
  
“John...” The detective said again, voice raspy and strangled and somehow strange. John frowned but it all became clear when he felt something warm and wet on his shoulder.  
“It's okay, love” he whispered, looking for the tissues on their bedside table. He gently cleaned Sherlock, moving them apart as little as possible, listening to soft sobs and heavy breathing. He laid them both down, arms encircled around each other, and waited for Sherlock to calm down, all the time whispering sweetly into his ear.  


When he finally quietened, John heard him uttering a soft “I'm sorry”. John frowned.   
“What on earth are you sorry for?” He asked, his voice gentle.  
“For today... for... for my mood...” the detective hesitated. John's frown deepened.   
“Sherlock, it's alright. Happens to us all, you know?”  
“Not to me” the detective shook his head. “Not like this...”  
“Hey, look at me” John prompted lifting Sherlock's chin.  
  
“I have nightmares, too, and you know it” he said seriously, but the younger man only looked away from him.   
“I didn't have them for a while” he whispered, still not looking at the doctor.   
“You know...” John hesitated. “You know that talking about them sometimes helps?” He could see Sherlock's mask, the one he carefully put on his face to stop the emotions showing, slip away. When the detective finally broke the heavy silence that fell between them, John had to wrap him up in his arms again. He sounded so broken, so vulnerable that all of John's protective instincts kicked in at once.   
  
“It was Redbeard. He was in my dream, John...” he whispered. “They took him from me... again. And again. I couldn't stop this. They...” He broke off, eyes blinking rapidly. He curled around John once more, face tucked into John's neck.   
  
“I told you I had a dog once, John. Redbeard was my first and only friend... until I met you. He had a tumor, fatal one it seemed. The money for the meds was too much, parents decided he should be put to sleep. They did it one day, when I was out at school...” John could feel the faint shivers running down Sherlock's body and he ran his hand up and down Sherlock's back to calm him down a little.   
  
“In the dream... they took him away from me. The took him to the garden... Shot him” Sherlock sniffled. John squeezed him.   
“It was just a dream, Sherlock” he murmured softly.   
“I know... I just... It felt so real... I couldn't stand it” the detective raised his head looking down at him.  
  
“I love you, I'm here for you. I'll always be, love” he kissed Sherlock's forehead and settled comfortably again, pulling the other man with him.   
“Thank you” he heard on a soft huff of air. He only squeezed the lanky detective harder.   
  
He would always be there for Sherlock, no matter what. It was his duty. And one that he felt happy fulfilling.


End file.
